


What Matters From Your Perspective

by Cheryl_MT



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Canon, Future, Points of View
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-09-01
Updated: 2005-09-01
Packaged: 2018-12-27 01:07:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12070608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cheryl_MT/pseuds/Cheryl_MT
Summary: Brian observes Emmettâ€™s reaction to Hurricane Katrina and â€¦..





	What Matters From Your Perspective

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

Note 1: I have no connection to CNN or the Weather Channel.  
Note 2: Thank you to my friends for their continued encouragement. You know who you are.

* * *

We, Justin and I, are sitting in the diner. I’ve got my back against the corner of the booth with Justin leaning against my chest and my arms wrapped around him. 

The TV is on, just as it’s been on since the Stockwell/Election situation. Debbie thinks we should be aware of the news not just in Pittsburgh but around the world. Most of the queers in here don’t really worry about anything beyond their dicks, but then there are some who are actually paying attention to the news broadcast on CNN and The Weather Channel. I figure that the owner of the diner finally got some sense and put basic cable in. Probably at Debbie’s insistence or a threat to his balls.

Justin and I came into the diner early in Debbie’s shift. It was unusually slow and she sat down with us for a few minutes. Deb pointed at the TV set mounted up in the corner and talked about some of the hurricanes gone by. She said she remembered seeing the death and destruction that Camille caused back in the late 60s. “That one,” she said, “was just before she went back to school in 1969. Of course, back then, we didn’t have the kind of news coverage we have now. And there weren’t so many people and organizations willing to help out either.” She got up from the booth to get back to work all the while muttering to herself.

There’s a lot of the Iraqi war situation being shown, but even that topic has been shifted to the back burner by Hurricane Katrina.

I have a few clients in New Orleans that I haven’t heard from yet. But considering the damage and flooding, I know it will be a while since the phone lines are iffy.

Emmett and Calvin come in and sit across from us in the booth. Em is wearing a worried look on his face as he’s watching the storm track over his home state of Mississippi. I haven’t quite figured out Calvin yet.

When Debbie noticed that Emmett was at our booth, she asked him if he’s worried about his family back there in Hazlehurst. He actually stops to think about it for a moment and then says an emphatic “NO.” I wonder about his response, but then Em says, “The only people down there that really cared about me were my Granny and My Aunt Lula, and they’re in a place just smiling down on me. As my Georgie used to say ‘Fuck ‘EM.’ So I will. They didn’t care about me then, why should I care about them now.” 

Justin turns slightly to look at Emmett and then twists around to look me in the eyes. I can tell that he doesn’t quite believe Em’s comment, but then again, if his family practically rode him out on a rail, or bus as it were, then who knows. We all have our ‘unpleasant’ memories of coming out to our families. Trust me, many of those situations were truly very unpleasant. Just look at what Justin went through with his father or should I say Craig. And what Craig did to my Jeep and then to my rib cage in the alley. Those kicks and punches really hurt like a motherfucker.

Emmett hasn’t elaborated on his experiences though. He’s told us that he had some money saved and went to the bus station and asked how far he could go for the amount of money he had in his wallet. It was not enough for New York but just enough to get to Pittsburgh. 

And since the great escape he’s done rather well for himself. He was a couturier to disco trash when he worked at Torso, a porn star on Theodore’s website, and an almost kept man with George Schickel until his untimely death. Now he’s Pittsburgh’s party planner extraordinaire. Oh yes, I forgot his brief stint as the “Queer Guy” on the local news.

I can only imagine what his family might say at his success now. I’m sure that they hoped that he’s fall off the edge of the earth somewhere so that they wouldn’t have to deal with him any more. Well, they haven’t had to deal with his “flame” in many years now. I remember him saying once “Good riddance to bad rubbish” about them. 

I did catch a conversation he had when Theodore was arrested because he had an underage employee at Jerk@work. Em related that they had lots of tornadoes down in Mississippi and that everyone just had to pick themselves up and get on with rebuilding their homes and their lives. That he and Teddy would get through this situation. It would take a while, but they did get through it.

Well, back to the newscast. The storm tracked right over his hometown. 

I just can’t envision what these people are experiencing. New Orleans under water, Gulf towns reduced to rubble. People escaping with just the clothes they have on their backs. Of course the order to evacuate was ignored by so many and now the police and emergency personnel are trying to get them off of their roofs, out of attics, stranded in their homes. No food, no drinking water, oppressive heat and stench. Even needing to move these refugees to other cities and states.

Idiots. Wanting to wait out the storm, putting their lives in jeopardy. Idiots is an understatement. 

I think about how I might deal with a situation like this. I’d have me and mine, i.e., this little fucked-up family out of town so fast that their heads would spin. I wouldn’t want Gus or even little JR to have to deal with the kinds of memories that the kids down there are going to have. 

So yes, I’m glad I live in Pittsburgh, most of the time. Yes, we have occasional flooding from heavy rains. We have hot summers and extremely cold winters. Heavy snow storms and an occasional blizzard. The power goes out. We deal with what Mother Nature decides to dish our way and then we move on.

Pittsburgh can be the Pitts sometimes. But when you compare what you have with what those people down in those destroyed cities and towns have or should I say don’t have, it’s not so bad.

Deb wanders over and sits next to Emmett and asks, “Em, honey, are you going to try to contact them?” And Emmett shakes his head ‘no.’ She nods her head in motherly understanding and gets up to wait on another table. Those customers are also intently watching the TV.

Just then there is a break in the storm damage reports. “From Grand Rapids, Michigan. One of the four pairs of ruby slippers that Judy Garland wore in “The Wizard of Oz” has been stolen from the birthplace museum.” 

I hear a strangled cry come out of Emmett’s mouth and then see the tears streaming down his face. He remarks, “Now that’s what’s important, well to me, anyway.” Probably to a lot of queers when you really think about it. Without dear ol’ Judy, or more importantly her death, the gay movement wouldn’t be what it is today. Thank God for Stonewall.

~~~~~

Things start to settle down in the diner. I rub my hand up and down Justin’s arm and he turns and gives me one of his “sunshine” smiles. Debbie is serving up the pink plate specials. Emmett and Calvin look into each other’s eyes for some kind of “connection” about what’s going on at home. Or maybe the museum in Grand Rapids.

We all are probably thinking about how lucky we are that we are so far away from death and disaster.

And then, Debbie takes a large pickle jar and puts it next to the register with a sign on it saying, “Hurricane Katrina Relief Fund.” And she loudly says that she expects the jar to be full by the end of the day. That everyone can afford to put a little something in.

She said the same thing about the jar she put there for the “Vic Grassi House.”

As Justin and I are ready to leave the diner, I remember my Gran’s favorite quote: “There but for the grace of God, go I.” So I pull out my wallet and toss several $100 bills into the jar. Justin gives me one of his best ”Sunshine” smiles and squeezes my hand as we walk out the door.

Maybe some of the diner’s customers will feel guilted into making larger donations. 

But, when Deb counts out the money to send to the relief efforts, she’ll smile to herself knowing who made such a large contribution. Anonymously, of course. It’s just my way.

It’s just a matter of what matters to you. From your perspective.


End file.
